


Castlevania Promptober

by TheTurtleFromHell



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Heavy Angst, Multi, October Prompt Challenge, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 11,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTurtleFromHell/pseuds/TheTurtleFromHell
Summary: From Castlevania Creatives Promptober, here's a fic collection fit for the spookiest month of the year!!
Comments: 167
Kudos: 58





	1. Bad Ending

The world was silent.

Dracula sat upon his throne surrounded by the quiet world, which had leached its way into the castle long ago. Nature was doing what the humans had failed to do, claiming the castle for itself.

After Alucard’s death, the fate of humanity was sealed. They had all perished, and the vampires perished shortly after. Two humans had managed to survive the purge, but in the end they too were claimed by the throes of death, their bodies rotting away in their quarters.

And the one who orchestrated it all had put down his conductor’s baton and sat, waiting to be claimed by starvation. But even he could only sit still for so long, and after years of sitting he at last stood up and began walking the halls. 

His outfit hung loosely around his thin frame, grey skin and white hair barely covering his bones. He had become a ghost long ago.

At last, the spectre reached his destination, a tiny room where once there had been life. He stepped over the bodies of the hunter and scholar, walking straight to where the soldier had fallen in battle.

Even in death, Alucard was more vampire than human, barely a mark of decay on his body. Dracula sat (or rather collapsed) beside his mirror image, gently brushing the dull gold hair from his face. He pulled his son close, perhaps wishing he could apologize for how things turned out or that he had the strength to wail for the loss of his child. But his voice had left him long ago, leaving him to only sit in silence with the empty vessel as the morning sun rose, its light reaching through the windows and caressing the weakened lord.

The river overflowed with spring melt, causing the wildlife to sing gratefully. Birds chirped, deers butted heads, wolves howled and barked.

Still the world was silent, and there was no one to mourn or celebrate as Dracula turned to ashes.


	2. Transformation

Adrian’s father was not a single person. Well, he was, but he also had a lot of forms contrary to the average father who had only one. It made their father-son shenanigans quite interesting to say the least.

When he was a toddler, the dhampir was rather fussy when it came to bed time. It was hard to get a stable sleep schedule when one half of you wanted to stay up all night and the other all day.

His father would hold him in his arms, shushing and rocking him. Some nights it wasn’t enough, and on those nights he and his father would take the form of bats. He would cling to his father’s furry chest as he hung from the rafters, swaddled in leathery wings that never failed to bring comfort.

As he grew they would wrestle and chase each other through the woods as wolves. Dracula would allow himself to get tackled to the ground over, howling dramatically as his son ‘bested’ him over and over, rolling in the dirt with him as they ‘fought’ with soft bites and playful shoves. By the end of the day they would return home to curl up in front of the fireplace, utterly exhausted by the day of play.

When he was a teenager and was forced to face both puberty and the reality of his complicated heritage, he took the form of a monster for an entire week. Horned and winged and ugly, he looked on the outside what he felt on the inside. Lashing out as an ordinary teenager was one thing, but when your fourteen year old has teeth and claws and is several times the size of the parent it's another.

In solidarity, Dracula also took the form of a monster, slightly larger but just as hideous. It had done what words weren’t able to do for the teen in turmoil, showed him that feeling like a monster and being one were entirely different things. They sat like that for hours as Adrian roared and cried, until he began to shrink back down to his original form.

Looking back on it all, he was grateful for all of the little moments. Transforming was a gift they had both shared, something only they had and understood about one another.

So when Dracula turned to ash, Alucard felt his heart do the same.


	3. In The Woods

Trees were something that brought familiarity to Trevor, no matter where he was.

Oak, birch, pine, the type didn’t matter so long as he could climb it and sit amongst its branches. Occasionally he’d run into a bird or a weasel which would make a fuss about him sitting too close to their nest, so he’d move to the next tree over. Other than that, trees were the perfect safe haven.

“You know, when you said you were going to help pick mushrooms I imagined you taking a more active role.” Alucard complained from the ground as he plucked the ripe fungus from the soil.

“I am helping,” Trevor retorts, “I’m keeping lookout.”

“With your eyes closed?”

“I’m so good at it I don’t even need to see.” he retorts.

The dhampir chuckles and shakes his head, “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you Belmont.”

“You’re not the first to say that, and you won’t be the last.” he declared proudly as he climbed down from the tree, “How many you picked?”

“Enough for all of us at dinner, and some poisonous ones to toss in your meal tonight.” Alucard replied nonchalantly.

“Poison? Aw, that’s such a boring way to go.” Trevor complained, “You’re a vampire, why not claw out my heart or drink my blood? Now that has flourish!”

“I’ll take your critique into consideration.” he said, “... should we be concerned that we joke about murdering each other so often?”   
“Nah, that’s what friends do.” Trevor shrugs, wrapping an arm around Alucard, “Besides, you wouldn’t kill me because if you did Sypha would then kill you for taking away her foot warmer.”

“A good point indeed.” he concedes, “I suppose I’ll bring you back alive then. Shall we get going?”

“Lead the way.” Trevor said as he bows, an arm presenting the path before them.

Alucard rolled his eyes, “And you call me the dramatic one.” he sighs.

They share a laugh before walking up the path together as hunter and soldier, Belmont and Tepes, unlikely friends.


	4. Wolf

Alucard’s wolf form had to be his favorite out of all of them.

It was light yet strong, fast as the wind with jaws that snapped shut like a bear trap and claws which sliced through flesh like a hot knife through butter, golden amber eyes and glistening fur white as snow that would make everyone who saw him realize at first glance that he was no ordinary wolf. It was perfect for fighting, for travel, for-

“Alucard, quit kickin' in your sleep, you're messing up the blankets.” Trevor grumbled. Alucard lifted his head from where he laid at the foot of the bed. He boofed softly in acknowledgement, then laid his head back down as the hunter turned over and went back to sleep himself, cuddling against the still slumbering Speaker.

It was also perfect for when an inn bed wasn’t big enough for three people, and as a foot warmer (according to Sypha at least).


	5. Sunrise

“Hector? Hector, wake up.”

He groaned as he was shaken from his sleep, pulling the covers over his face, “Few more minutes…” he pleaded. His month in captivity had been hard on both his mind and body. After Isaac had rescued him (and convinced him he meant no harm), the only thing he wanted to do is sleep.

He heard Isaac huff, a sound that was so uncharacteristic of him, “Fine, but you’re going to miss the sunrise.”

Hector looked up at him, as if the word had been in another language, “What?”

“I said you’re going to miss the sunrise.” Isaac repeated, “I figured it must have been awhile since you’ve seen it, but if you want to sleep in-”

In a flash Hector was on his feet and out the door, running to the front porch of the ruined home they had settled in. Around him the ruins of the magician’s city sat, the stench of stale decay thick in the air. He was only focused on the horizon as he found a random stone block to sit on, staring silently.

How long had it been since he had seen the world cloaked in light instead of darkness, much less felt it?

It was agony to wait, but Hector didn’t want to miss a moment of what was to come, of this everyday occurrence that he had dreamt he’d never have the blessing of seeing again.

Slowly but surely, like it always did, the black sky gave way to color, a line of orange fading into white and then blue. The sun peeked, then began to rise, bringing with it the morning sky as it rose higher and higher.

His eyes were locked on the scenic sunrise, even as he heard Isaac walk up and sit down beside him.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah…” Hector nodded as tears ran down his cheeks, sparkling in the sunlight, “Yeah it is.”


	6. Forbidden

Forbidden to say your family name. Forbidden to protect the people of Wallachia. Forbidden to continue your legacy.

Forbidden to show your fangs in public. Forbidden to mention science to you neighbors. Forbidden to be around humans or vampires without the parent of the same species present.

Forbidden to perform your magic near crowds. Forbidden to write things down. Forbidden to look like a girl on the road.

Lessons such as these are learned early in life, often in the hard way unfortunately.


	7. Goths

It was 1897.

A craze had swept through the literary world, one where humans began to embrace tales of the macabre, elements of mystery and the taboo entwined in every word of gothic literature. Alucard himself rather enjoyed the new genre, collecting a small collection of books as the years went on.

But when Alucard had seen the title of the newest novel displayed in a bookstore window, he actually said aloud “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Alas, no one was kidding. There, plain as day on the shelf was a book titled in big letter  _ ‘Dracula’ _ . Whether out of morbid curiosity or a sense of nostalgia, Alucard didn’t know, but he bought the book and went straight back home to read it.

As he turned each page, he began to relax more and chuckle to himself as he read. This portrayal of his father was rather… laughable, for lack of another word.

Three wives, a distaste for wine, and predating on a real estate agent? He was nearly in stitches the entire time!

But then he came to a passage that quickly changed the mood...

_ "How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." _

_ The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him. "You yourself never loved. You never love!" On this the other women joined,and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear. It seemed like the pleasure of fiends. _

_ Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper, "Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! Go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done." _

That passage made his blood grow cold and hair stand on end more than any other scary tale could hope to do. The words, hitting too close to home, awakened an ache within his heart that had slumbered for quite some time.

He threw the book into the fireplace, but the words haunted him for weeks afterwards.

_ "Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?” _

He was never able to finish the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i understand "gothic literature" is a stretch from "goth" but whatever ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Blanket

It was a cold October night. An autumn storm rolled through the valley, bringing with it a parade of lightning and thunder.

Where the Belmont estate once stood was now a meager little cottage, surrounded by half done construction promising a future as a proud mansion. Inside, three souls took shelter from the weather.

There was a knock at the master bedroom’s door, waking both parents as it creaked open and a little voice called out “Mama? Papa?”

“Sonia,” Trevor yawned as he sat up, “What’s wrong?”

The little four year old rocked on her feet, “I can’t sleep.” she whimpered, holding herself tightly.

“Aw, come here dear.” Trevor said as he held his arms out. Sonia immediately ran to him, holding on tightly as her father lifted her in the bed with a grunt as Sypha lit a candle beside the bed with a flame from her finger.

“Is it the storm?” Sypha asked her as she crawled between her parents.

“No…” she murmured as her mother began to rub her back, leaning into the soothing gesture. Her brunette hair was a mess, tangled from a night of tossing and turning.

“A bad dream?” her father inquired. 

Sonia pursed her lips and nodded, “I couldn’t find you…” she sniffled as she recalled the nightmare, the mere thought of it bringing tears to her eyes, “You were all gone. You and Mama and even Uncle Alucard, and I was all alone and I was scared!”

“Oh love, it’s okay.” he shushed her as she cried into his nightgown, “You know what? I have just the thing for you.”

“You do?” she blinked up at him.

“Yup. I’ll be just a moment,” he said, grunting as he stood up. Sonia quickly scurried into her mother’s arms, watching curiously as her father rummaged through the closet in search of the mysterious thing.

“Aha!” he exclaimed victoriously, holding up his prize, “Here it is!”

Sonia tilted her head in confusion at the old blanket. It looked older than her, held together with various mismatched patches and stitches, “Is it special?” she asks.

“Very,” Trevor says as he walks back to the bed and sits, “Would you like to know the story behind it?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Well, it all started the first night of our quest to defeat Dracula.” he began, “We had managed to get into the Hold, and were turning in for the night.”

“So it’s a magic blanket from the Hold!” she smiles, thinking she has it figured out.

“Not quite,” Sypha giggles, “You see, this was my first time away from my tribe. Being away from family is hard enough, but imagine knowing you have to save the world on top of it. I was scared, lonely and confused. I wasn’t even able to sleep.”

“Like me?”

“Like you.” she nods, “And when I told your father, he lifted the end of this very blanket and told me ‘There’s enough room under this stinky blanket for two, and no one was ever lonely in this house.’” she smiles as she looks to her husband, “And that was the moment I knew your father was the one for me.”

“What can I say, I’m a natural romantic.” he chuckles as he spreads out the blanket, “So we kept the blanket, after giving it a good wash of course,” he says as he catches his daughter sniffing at it, “So I’m sure this blanket will help you feel a less lonely in your dreams, like it did for Mama her first night with me.”

“Technically the first,” Sypha corrects, “The first was spent fighting a mob of angry villagers and night creatures.”

“Fair enough.” he shrugs with a smile, when a light snore grabs their attention. They look between them to see Sonia already fast asleep, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders.

“Well would you look at that,” Trevor whispers, “Works like a charm.” he leans down and kisses her forehead, before kissing Sypha’s cheek, “Goodnight, Scholar of Magic.”

“Goodnight to you too, Hunter from the Belmont Clan.” she whispers back as they lay down, each laying an arm over their daughter as they drift off to sleep.

No one was ever lonely in the Belmont and Belnades home.


	9. Chill

The air was cold, as was the silence between them.

The Styrian fort laid in ruin, piles of ashes and blood decorating nearly every room. The night creatures feasted on the blood and flesh in the stores, gorging themselves after a battle hard-fought.

Isaac and Hector sat on one of the balconies, each sitting on the opposite side of the bench. Around them the wind howled, echoing through the valleys of the blue mountains.

It wasn’t that they had nothing to say to each other, just the opposite in fact. There was too much to say, too much to ask. The future was uncertain, too overwhelming to think about. So they sat, as if if they waited long enough everything would sort itself out.

They were both free, but what is freedom to men who don’t know what to do with it?

Hector suddenly shifted, and Isaac looked over expecting him to say something at last. Instead he found the silver-haired forgemaster shivering, arms wrapped tightly around himself. The uniform around him was thread-bare, with none of the quality of their previous ones. It spoke volumes to what the man had been to the Sisters, just another servant rather than a valued asset.

Without even thinking about it, Isaac unclipped his cape and offered it to the other man. Hector actually blinked, as if unsure about taking the offer. Could this be a trick, a way for Isaac to put him in his debt?

“Hurry up before I change my mind, my arms are getting tired.” he scoffed.

Likely not.

Hector took the cloak and smiled thankfully. To his surprise, Isaac returned it with a small smile of his own. As he began to wrap it around himself he paused, and then held one end up, “I think there’s room enough for two.”

Isaac cocked a brow, “Seriously?”

“I won’t have my rescuer freeze to death after all that,” he said, “Then there’d be no one to go down the mountain with.”

Isaac laughed that same laugh from times long past, one Hector remembered hearing on a bright early morning in a forest. It was still as magical a sound as ever.

“Can’t argue with that.” he concedes, scooting closer so that the cloak could drape around the two of them.

The bitter wind still whipped around them, the snow radiating a deep cold. But at last, they were warm.


	10. (Vampire's) Bite

The front door slammed open and shut as Adrian ran into the house, practically leaping onto the couch and pulling the blanket draped over it over himself.

Vlad looked up from his work with a flinch, surprised by the sudden commotion. Lisa had left to treat patients for the day, and his son had gone off to play with the neighborhood kids as far as he was aware.

“Adrian, my boy, what’s gotten into you?” Vlad asked as he stood to walk over, placing a hand over Adrian’s covered back. The seven year old whimpered and curled in on himself.

He went to pull the blanket off of him, only to be interrupted by a pounding at the door. Not keen on having his door break from another moment of abuse, he sighed and went to answer it.

When he opened the door the town butcher stood before him, the man’s son standing behind him and sniffling as he held a bloody rag to his arm.

“Is your son injured?” he asked, having treated more than his fair share of kids who roughhoused a little too hard or climbed higher than they should have.

Instead he was met with a fat finger jabbing his chest, “You know well enough he’s hurt!” the butcher borderline shouted furiously, “It was your devil of a child that bit him!”

Vlad’s eyes went wide, shocked at the accusation. The vampire turned to the trembling figure under the blanket, speaking in a firm tone, “Adrian, come here.”

There was a moment of hesitation, before the dhampir sat up and pushed the blanket off of himself. Smeared across his mouth was the evidence, blood that had already begun to dry and stick to his skin.

No words could describe the amount of dread which quickly filled Vlad, though he kept a calm face as his teary-eye child walked over like a condemned man walking to his execution.

“Explain yourself.” he commanded, crossing his arms.

Adrian sniffled and wiped at his eyes, confessing with a meek voice, “A-All the kids were making fun of me and-and he pushed me and was holding my arms down so I bit him.”

The mood quickly shifted as the butcher’s angry expression changed to one of confusion, then anger again, “Well, it seems Jonathan left that part out.” he said as he turned to his son, who immediately shrunk under his glare.

“But look!” Jonathan protested as he held up his arm, “Look at the bite, he’s a vampire!”

Vlad’s anxiety skyrocketed again, only to be quelled when the butcher rolled his eyes, “Oh, he’s a vampire now is he? And I bet he’s one of those special ones that walk during the day right?”

“But Dad-!”

“No buts! I’ve had it with your tales, boy!” he scolded, before turning back to address Vlad, “My apologies then, we’ll be on our way.”

He nodded and watched them leave with an indifferent expression before shutting the door.

“Am I in trouble?” he heard Adrian ask through tears.

He immediately turned and knelt down, taking his child into his arms, “No Adrian, of course not.” he assured in a soothing voice, “It’s okay to stand up for yourself, don’t you ever forget that.”

Adrian nodded as his father pulled a kerchief from his pocket, wiping away the tears snot and blood.

“But how about we start teaching you how to fight properly, so there won’t be any biting necessary.”

The boy immediately perked up at the promise, “Can I fight with a sword?” he asked eagerly.

Vlad chuckled, “Let’s start with the basics first, then we’ll see about a sword.”


	11. Chapel

Stepping inside the abandoned chapel felt like betrayal, a slap in the face to his dead parents and brothers and sisters. 

But he needed shelter from the cold night, and ultimately survival took precedence over principle.

Trevor pulled the too large fur cloak tightly around his thinning frame as he found an unbroken pew to sleep on. It had been a year since the fire, but the memories of the heat and the screaming hadn’t grown less intense. The large cross at the front above the altar stared down at him, reminding the boy exactly who had taken everything from him.

He still didn’t understand it, wasn’t sure if he ever would. Hadn’t they been fighting for the same thing the Church was, hadn’t they done it in the name of the same God? What was it about consecrated whips that was so much worse than the crucifixes and cloth the priests wore? Perhaps that hadn’t been the issue at all, maybe it was something else. Maybe the Church was one giant circle-jerk of holiness that got mad about someone else doing the job better.

Trevor looked up at the dusty cross, at the broken stained glass windows and moldy bibles. If God truly was in all His churches, then wouldn’t He be in this one too? Was the ivy growing through the cracks and the critters scurrying through in His audience just as any church-goer would be?

Perhaps if he was another type of person, he’d be mad at God for not preventing the fire, for allowing those who served Him wholeheartedly to die cruel deaths. Alas, Trevor didn’t have enough energy in himself to be mad at an omnipotent being. His anger was earthly, directed at the Church who ordered the excommunication, the priests who carried it out, and the townsfolk who aided. It boiled inside, spitting and hissing like hot oil. It kept him warm that night. 

But when morning came, the molten lead of anger had hardened into a heavy weight, one the boy would carry around with him for years to come. As he left the abandoned chapel, he spat on the threshold. Not to spite God, but to spite whoever had built it and all those who had held service in it years before.

“Self-righteous assholes,” he muttered as he walked through the mud, made cold by the spring melt, “All of them…”


	12. Laboratory

Many people found labs unnerving, a sterile environment with mysterious gadgets and chemicals galore. To Adrian, the labs felt like home.

Perhaps it was because as a child, he was never far from one. In the first half of his mother’s pregnancy she walked the labs as a doctor, and in the second half she laid in one of the private rooms as a patient. Maybe there was something to be said about fetal imprinting after all.

But then came the days when  _ he _ was the subject of their interest, when he was poked and prodded and measured and weighed. His parents would have to chase, corral and corner him in order to get him in the lab, and withstood his screaming and flailing with calming assurances of ‘Not much longer’ and ‘Just one more thing left to do, I promise!’

His father often joked ‘At least his lungs sound healthy.’, to which his mother would always laugh and roll her eyes.

It was only a matter of time before he realized fighting the appointments was a losing battle, and so would finally stay still so that it could be done sooner rather than later (though his glare let them know he still wasn’t happy about it). It was only when he was much older did he realize the constant medical observation was done out of fear of the unknown. If there had been medical texts and such detailing the biology of a dhampir they would have been less frantic.

Or maybe he was looking too deep into it and they would have done the same for a child of theirs that was pure vampire or human, as protective parents tend to do.

When he became older, they backed off on the medical observations and allowed him to appreciate the lab for what it was. 

Most of the time spent there was beside his parents, either having a science lesson or doodling as his parents conjured up healing medicines and made scientific discoveries at the same tables he doodled at.

He watched them perform their craft in wonder, like they were magicians controlling things he didn’t quite yet understand. Lisa did her best to deter him from referring to science as magic, but Vlad was indifferent to it and insisted the two had a lot in common.

Different philosophies of the sciences aside, his parents were a power couple, and he hoped that one day he’d be able to join them in saving humanity. Soon, however, his interests drifted elsewhere. While he always completed his lessons on time and demonstrated his smarts efficiently, he put down the beakers and chemicals in favor of a pencil and sketchbook. 

His parents never once showed they were any less proud or disappointed about their son sitting in the corner drawing them work rather than joining in.

In the end, while most families bonded in front of the hearth or in the fields doing chores, the Tepes family did their familial bonding in the labs. And Alucard could honestly say he had no regrets about it being that way. To him, a lab never failed to make him think of better times.


	13. Possessed

Richter always envisioned possession as a painful experience, one where the soul was constantly fighting and begging to be freed.

Instead it felt pleasant, oddly comforting. It felt like snowfall made of warmth, piling on top of him and made him want to stay laying where he was. He was swaddled in the spell, its magic feeling like that of a guardian’s arms where troublesome thoughts stayed far away. He had never even thought about wanting to break free or leaving that mindspace...

And that’s what haunted him the most.


	14. Moonlight/Full Moon

The moon was always a friend to Isaac. Under the cover of night, nobody could see the color of your skin. The merchants and alchemists who desired to butcher you were fast asleep, and the cover of night allowed for safer travel. It was cooler than it was during the day, less noisy and more peaceful.

It was the moon and her night which had allowed Dracula to leave his lair and find Isaac that particular night, beaten and tied and prepared to be butchered like an animal. After the blood of his assailants soaked the sand, Isaac had thought he was next. And he was thankful that he was going to die on such a beautiful night, with only the moon and stars as witnesses to his death.

Instead, she bore witness to a magnificent friendship between human and vampire. Her stars eavesdropped on every conversation between them, every philosophical discussion and every shared joke, and were there when the human pledged loyalty to his friend, in a war to end all wars.

She and her night, though unwittingly, lent strength to his creations, dark energies flowing through cursed veins. Though he was happy to contribute to the cause, Isaac still enjoyed a break every now and then, to sit upon the highest tower in the castle and sit with the moon, meditating as he listened to the creatures of the night live under her light.

The moon had watched his downfall too, was there with him the first night after Dracula spared his life. Her light was the only sense of familiarity the confused and hurt man had. But as expected, he picked himself up, and began forth on his own mission. She watched as both his army and his humanity grew, watched his war unfold and watched as he claimed victory.

Tonight, Isaac looked up at the full moon and smiled at his old friend. Though she didn’t smile back, the moonlight gracing his face was enough to know she was happy for him.


	15. Weapons

It was an old family joke that Belmont’s held whips instead of rattles when they were babies, a subtle jab at their legacy and the fact training began young.

But it made Trevor wonder what would happen if a Belmont went their entire life without one, wondered if their hand would itch for the braided leather and if they’d go on knowing something was missing. He knew he certainly couldn’t go without the one which rested on his hip. It had been meant to be just a training whip, one he could trade in a few years when he learned to master it better. 

It had been on his nightstand the night of the fire, and one of the few things he had managed to grab before he was forced to flee his ancestral home. Since then it has been a loyal weapon, its weight bringing a calming sense of security and familiarity. It had saved his life from both humans and monsters too many times to count, the leather managing to hold itself together despite the hard times (Trevor wasn’t sure what he’d do if it actually broke).

It was the only reliable thing he had in life, something he held so close to his heart that even in the worst of times he wouldn’t dream of selling it for any amount of coin. The leather braid was the only thing he had left that tied him to his roots, to his family. And though he was sure he’d die alone and childless, there was still that part of him that dreamed of one day passing it down. It was a stupid dream, but a hope he kept tucked away in his heart.

But he didn’t have time to waste on such foolish things. Right now the sun was falling below the horizon, and he ached for warmness. He didn’t have enough coin for a room, so a few pints of ale would have to do. So he stepped into the bar and took a table in the far back away from the other bar goers, a man all alone except for the faithful weapon at his side.


	16. Masquerade

Life itself was a masquerade. Masks are worn by everyone, and could be made from many things.

For Trevor, it was one of indifference and rudeness. He never thought of it as hiding his true self, rather he thought of it as protection. A shield which kept him hardened and numb to the cruelty of the world. He thought of it as an extension of himself, rather than a tool. To Trevor, he was all the things he appeared to be, an alcoholic with no sense of purpose and no care in the world but that of a pint of ale and a tree to sleep under.

Sypha’s mask was two-sided. One side was the desire to help, a need to be needed. It wasn’t that it was ingenuine, no, but it hid fear. A fear that the world was a truly terrible place, that nothing, no amount of good done could ever fix it and that any one who ever tried would have no impact on it whatsoever, their good deeds all for nothing. The other side was one of sass and blunt honesty, one often shown to those she didn’t quite understand or able to figure out.

Alucard had never even been aware of his own mask, not even when he put it on. He looked in the mirror and saw nothing, but it was clear as day to others. The sarcastic insults and air of elegance was meant to hide something. He was good at fooling himself, and sometimes good at fooling others too. Some could be convinced the mask wasn’t there, but others saw it and assumed it hid malicious intentions...


	17. Favorite Enemy/Monster

Time was measured in drops of water here in the bowels of Walter’s castle.

Joachim counter each one, back to the door as he waited. Last time, he counted up to nearly a million when the door opened. Now he was past three million and twenty thousand.

Walter was waiting longer in between each game. Did that mean he was growing bored of it? Was he going to abandon this project for another, leaving Joachim to rot once and for all? Perhaps he already had, and the trapped vampire was doomed to count until he starved to death. God, he was so hungry. He could just barely recall the copper taste of blood on his tongue as he cursed himself for gorging and not taking the time to appreciate the meal, as if he didn’t do it every single time. 

Repetition despite the same result each time, wasn’t that the definition of insanity.

Joachim chuckled to himself. Of course he was insane, he had accepted that long ago. Perhaps if he were a more passive individual, he would have let a human kill him long ago and give him a merciful death.

But Joachim didn’t want mercy, he wanted revenge. And he just had to hope the next human that stepped through his doors would have something the other didn’t, something that would give him the strength he needed to break free and kill Walter.

Until then, he would keep counting and waiting...

_ Drip… drip… drip… creeeeak. _

“Is someone there? Are you a prisoner here?”


	18. Mist

“It’s not her.” Sumi assured him as they stopped in front of the forest, staring at the haze of early morning mist. The calm it brought was eerie and haunting, as if any moment the quiet would be broken by screams and tearing flesh. They had seen Cho do it before, had seen her sneak into crevices and avoid fatal blows by becoming mist.

They knew she was miles away in Wallachia, attending a council hearing and plotting devious things with her fellow generals.

“It’s not her…” Sumi says again, a little less confident this time. Taka simply nodded.

They waited until the mist cleared to continue traveling. 


	19. Ill (Alternative to Reincarnation/Reborn)

Isaac was many things. He was loyal to a fault, strategic, quiet and thoughtful. He was also human, and even the best of humans got sick.

Isaac sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was about to rip it off his face and drain his stuffed sinuses that way. An incessant pressure throbbed behind his face, clogging every up every sense. His lips were chapped from his mouth breathing, body hot but skin sweaty and chilled, the flickering candle light on his nightstand almost too bright to bear.

There were three knocks at the door, followed by two more after a pause. A code only used between Isaac and one other person.

His voice was scratchy and nasally as he called, “Come in.”, the mere act of speaking making his throat burn.

The door opened slowly, revealing Dracula. However, he was more underdresseed than usual. Though his ruffled undershirt and leather trousers were still things a peasant could only dream of attaining, it was nothing compared to his usual flair. Meaning that this was a visit between friends, and not Lord and General.

“Not feeling too well?” the vampire asked as he shut the door behind him, before pulling the desk chair to the bedside and taking a seat.

Isaac groaned, “An understatement.” he replied, “I feel like death itself has wrapped me in its cold embrace. You ought to go find another forgemaster to finish my work, perhaps give my body to them to forge and see that it doesn’t go to waste.”

“I see your illness hasn’t dampened your morose sense of humor.” he chuckles, but there was still a look of worry in his eyes. As small as the risk of contracting illness from dead bodies was and as much as he knew Isaac took every precaution possible, he couldn’t help but fret a little bit.

“Have you taken anything?” he asks, to which Isaac shook his head.

“It’s just a cold.” Isaac insisted.

“That may be, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to ease your suffering.” he says as he stands and makes his way to the bathroom, “You know the medicine cabinets are stocked, and I can restock it as much as you need.” he says as the sound of rummaging echoes from the door.

“You sound like an old fretting grandmother.” he said as he sat up, just in time for Dracula to return with a small cup and a bottle of some mystery syrup.

“Boiled ginger and honey.” he says as he pours a bit into the small cup and hands it to him, “Remind me, is chicken halal?”

“If it’s done by the zibah method, then yes.” he replies, throwing his head back as he swallowed the pungent concoction.

“Then I’ll fetch it through the mirror for you.” he says, “Is there anything else you need? Perhaps some books to keep you entertained?”

Isaac looked a little uncertain about something, “You don’t have to do all this.”

“Nonsense,” Dracula said, waving his hand as if trying to shoo the notion away, “It’s no trouble at all.”

“Not about that,” he said, “I just meant that, this must be painful for you, doing the very thing your wife was murdered for.”

He tensed at the mention of Lisa, the mere utterance of her name causing the ache in his heart to flare. There was a moment of silence that made Isaac think that bringing her up was a mistake, until Dracula at last responded.

“I… will admit to you that, waking up each day and remembering she is gone is painful. I will not lie about that.” he begins, “However… this is different. Rather than reminding me she is gone, this reminds me of when she was alive. It does something for me that the paintings of her and sights of her belonging does not do, though I don’t know exactly what that is. It certainly isn’t bad.”

“It isn’t?”

“No,” Dracula shook his head, “And even if it did bring me a little pain, it is nothing compared to making sure you are well-cared for. Now rest, and I’ll return with some chicken soup later.”

Isaac chuckled weakly at that, “A Dark Lord, fretting over a common human like me.” his voice trailed off as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the short conversation in his sickly state, “How utterly strange...”

Dracula stayed for a little while to watch him sleep, listening to his deep, congested breathing, observing how his eyelids would barely flutter every now and then and the corner of his lips twitch.

“You are many things,” he said as he pulled the blankets over Isaac, blowing out the candle before heading out the door, “But common is not one of them."


	20. Tender

Tender was not a word Trevor would use to describe himself. He was rugged, he was blunt, he was strategic and hardheaded, but tender was something he was not… until he met Sypha that is.

It wasn’t that she was weak, quite the opposite in fact. She was strong, just as stubborn as he was, witty and smart. How could he not treat her with the softest touches, with passionate kisses and yes, tender touches. She wasn’t something that could be broken, but she was more precious than anything else in the world to him, and so he was both careful and caring.

How could he not be tender?


	21. Haunted

There’s the sound of his mother humming coming from the lab.

Alucard had needed time alone from Trevor and Sypha after what they had told him, so he had fled to the study and shut himself inside. What they said couldn’t have been true, it was impossible.

He heard his father’s footsteps behind him, stopping at the bookshelf to ponder which book he should read his son tonight.

His parents couldn’t be in Hell. It had to be an illusion they had seen, a conjured image.

He heard the fire crackling, his mother laughing as he sat in her lap, laughing at the silly faces his father was making.

His mother didn’t deserve to be there, and it was too good for his father’s crime. But the real reason they couldn’t be there was because they were here, roaming the halls as spectres and reminders of the past, either to relive happy memories or because they were unable to move on. Unless… unless…

Alucard looked up at his mother and father as they stood over him, worry etched into their faces.

If the castle wasn’t haunted, then that meant these ghosts were his own.


	22. Heirloom

“Do you know what this is?”

Little Adrian, a few days past turning ten, stared at the weapon in his mother’s hands, the silver blade gently cradled in the white cloth which had been wrapped around it. He thought for a moment, before replying “A sword.”

Lisa chuckles, “Yes, but it’s a very important sword. Would you like to know why?”

He nodded eagerly.

“It was crafted by Mary Magdalene, an ancestor of yours.” she begins, “She was a friend of Jesus’, perhaps even a disciple according to some, and she was inspired by him to help people any way she could. It was said she was even a patron to apothecary medicine.”

“Like you!” Adrian beamed.

“Yes, like me.” she smiled, petting his head before continuing, “But even though Jesus had died for the sins of mankind and saved them from God’s wrath, she knew it was not the end of sin. She knew evil has a way of persisting in the hearts of both men and demons, so she broke off a piece of the boulder that had sealed Jesus’ tomb and crafted a sword from it,” her hand touches the blade fondly, “This very sword and she passed it onto her children, and they passed it down to theirs and so on and so forth, so that they could fight in the name of what was right.”

He blinks “In the name of Jesus?”

“Not quite,” she said, “Because there are people who do good without ever knowing Jesus’ name, and people who do bad in his name. What is right and what is wrong is up to you, and you know the difference right?”

He smiled and nodded, “Yeah, it means helping people who need help and making sure they’re happy.”

“That’s right!” she beams as she hugs him and litters his cheek with kisses, “You’re such a good, smart boy!”

“Mooooom, you’re messing up my hair!” he giggled as he squirmed away.

“But it’s true!” she giggles, _ “ _ I thought you were ready to at least hear the story behind it, because I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, and I know you are destined for great things.” 

“Really?”

“Of course,” she kisses his forehead, “Now go get ready for bed, I’ll be up in a moment.”

“Will you bring the sword?” he asks excitedly, “Are we gonna put it up in my room? Can I use it for training?”

“I’ll discuss it with your father,” she assures, “If you brush your teeth and get yourself into bed by the time I come to read you your story.”

“Okay!” and with that, Adrian shot up the stairs and up to his room.

Lisa sighed with a smile and shook her head, “My, that boy is energetic.”

“He gets his pluckiness from you, love.” comes her husband’s voice behind her as he emerges from the shadows.

“Oh yeah?”she cocks a brow.

“That’s not to say it’s a bad thing, just something he gets from you.” he says as he sits next to her, “I thought you didn’t like things to do with God and the Devil and such.”

“I don’t.” she says, “But Adrian can decide how he feels about the story himself when he is older. Besides, I don’t see the harm in passing on an heirloom and its story.”

“Maybe not now, but you’ll be regretting it when he uses the columns for sword practice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A writer from the SotN team said Lisa was descended from a holy bloodline so knowing what I know from my sort-of Catholic upbringing (and after some research) I came up with this.


	23. Baking Pies/Fall Goodies

Baking always sounded like a nice idea, until you actually got around to it. Then there were ingredients to measure, things to mix, dirty bowls and utensils, and friends who wouldn’t stop eating the dough.

“Trevor, if you keep it up at this rate there won’t be anything left to bake.” he scolds the Belmont, adding without turning around, “That goes for you too Sypha.”

The Speaker’s eyes went wide, spoon full of dough stopping short of her mouth. She sheepishly put it down and stepped away from the bowl.

“Thank you.” he says, “Alright, now we just have to make small balls and spread them on the-”

“Wait, what if we made just one giant cookie?” Sypha asks, to which Trevor eyes immediately lit up at the proposition, “Sypha you’re a genius!”

“Oh my god you two imbeciles, it won’t bake the same.” Alucard protested, but made no effort to intervene as he watched his friends dump the dough onto the baking sheet, morbidly curious to see just how badly this could go.

* * *

Surprisingly, not that bad. A little burnt around the edge, but not bad.

“I must say, this was indeed a good idea Sypha.” Alucard said as he took another piece from the monster cookie, popping it in his mouth and chasing it down with a sip of milk.

“All of my ideas are good ideas.” Sypha proclaimed proudly. 

“Of course they are, Sypha.” Trevor said as he kissed her cheek, “You’re the greatest and smartest Scholar to have ever lived.”

“And you’re not so bad for an oafish hunter.” she said as she kissed his cheek.

“And you’re both so disgustingly sweet I’ve lost any appetite I had for the rest of this cookie.” Alucard rolled his eyes, and they all laughed.

Baking wasn’t so bad after all.


	24. Harvest (Alternative to Costume (Party))

It was mid-fall. There had been a bountiful harvest this year, and the village planned on celebrating with a festival. As the sun began to set, musicians tuned their instruments and the smell of goodies wafted through the air.

Sypha had never been one to miss out on festivities, but she had a problem.

The last ‘harvest’ she had been to was the one at Lindenfeld.

It felt horrible, being unable to enjoy the things you used to. It had taken forever for her not to immediately think of portals to Hell and monstrous demons upon hearing the word, but then she would realize she had not been triggered and thus the realization itself would cause the horrible memories to resurface. It was like climbing out of a pit and slipping mere feet away from freedom. 

Never one to back down from a fight, she had told Trevor and Alucard she wanted to attend the Harvest Festival, thinking maybe if she acted like everything was fine she could convince herself it was.

Instead, she sat on her bed, dressed in a fine dress and feeling frozen in place. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she got there and burst into tears and made a scene? How would Trevor and Alucard react after she had insisted she’d be fine only to fall apart in front of them?

There was a light rapping outside her door, followed by a “Sypha? Can I come in?”

She’d recognize that gruff yet soft voice anywhere.

“Come in.” she called, watching as the door creaked open and her partner stepped inside. He looked fidgety (more fidgety than his lovesick self usually was around her), his mouth moving as if his words were stuck to his mouth life taffy.

“Today’s the uh, the festival.” he said, obviously being careful with his words, “And I wanted to make sure… you know.”

“That I’m okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, walking over and sitting by her side, “Because I know that it's been hard on you, since Lindenfeld. And I just wanted to let you know that, if you get upset or even just uncomfortable, we can come back here and eat whatever snacks you want. I’ll even go down to the hold and get books for you. Whatever you want.” he let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.”

“Could have fooled me,” she chuckled, taking his hands in hers, “You ask me if I’m okay and then tell me all the ways you’ll care for me if I’m not? Quite odd for a man who considers himself a brute.”

“What is it you tell people, that I’m like an egg?” he says as he kisses her cheek.

“Hard on the outside, a soft and gooey on the inside.” she smiles, “Well then, l guess we shouldn’t keep Alucard waiting.”

“After you, m’lady.” he said fancifully as he stood and bowed. Sypha snorted and shook her head.

Maybe she could make it through tonight after all.


	25. Cross

Leon looked at the emblem he had commissioned, staring at the steel brooch to be worn over his heart.

Two dragons, servants of the devil, fleeing from the sight of a cross. It had a simple elegance to it as well as its straightforward message. 

This cemented it then, his family’s legacy to hunt the night, to hunt the one who had taken everything from him.

The Dragon would fall to the Belmonts, even if it took eternity.


	26. Bat's Company

The afternoon sun was high in the sky.

Inside the Belmont mansion, a large bat slept in the rafters of a dim study, swaddled in its own leathery wings. Below the creature of the night, a human and a dhampir sat on the couch, discussing the wording of spells and such.

It was then Maria glanced up and smiled, “They sorta look like puppies, don’t you think?”

“Hm?” Adrian blinked, “Oh, yes. Though it depends on the species really, I’ve seen bats with really strange faces before.”

“How strange?” she inquires.

“Well I saw one looked like a dog stung by a bee, and another with what looked like a leaf for a nose,” he pushes up his snout to demonstrate, “Like this.”

Maria snorted and giggled. He had forgotten how nice it felt to make another laugh.

“You’re too much!” she says playfully as she punches his shoulder, like they were old chums at a tavern, “Speaking of your bat, I’ve been meaning to ask what his name was.”

“His name?” he echoes.

“That is, if he has one.” she adds, “I like to name my familiars, but I know it’s not a standard practice. I was curious is all.”

He cocks his brow, “You mean ‘nosy’ right?” 

She responds by sticking out her tongue. 

He chuckles, “Actually, he does have a name.”

“Oh?” she perks up, “What is it?”

Alucard looked up at the bat with a smile as he answered, “Trevor.”


	27. Familiar

It had been over three hundred years since he was last in the castle, and even though the halls had waited and changed there were still bits of familiarity littered throughout, things he could recognize from happier times.

A painting nearly as big as the wall itself that he used to marvel at when he was young, instilling a deep appreciation for the arts. 

A vase he had broken while messing around and had fixed with his mother, an early lesson in cleaning up the messes you make.

A bay window he used to sit in and read, spendings hours with brave protagonists and their adventures.

The dhampir sighed and shook his head. He needed to focus and press forward, find the Belmont and break whatever curse was keeping him in this place.

The hours dragged on, enemies were fought and defeated, and new rooms unlocked. Alucard yawned into the back of his hand. God, he forgot how exhausting battle could be.

Suddenly, his fairy familiar flew out of his pocket, fluttering in front of his face. She looked concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he blinks, “Is something the matter?”

“You are tired,” she said matter-of-factly, “You need to rest, Master.”

“Nonsense.” he scoffed, “I’m perfectly-”  _ yawn _ “Fine.”

“You need to rest.” she said again, this time with a hint of impatience as she grabbed his sleeve and began tugging him towards a chair.

“There’s no time to rest!” he protested, “We need to find Richter and-”

“And fail because you were neglecting yourself?” she crosses her arms, “I understand your urgency, but you won’t be saving anyone if you jeopardize your health.”

“... I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“If you refuse, I’ll tie your hair to the next chandelier we pass under and you’ll have to sleep standing up.” she declares with a pout.

Alucard thought for a moment, then chuckled, “You've made your point.” he concedes as he walks over to the chair and sits, “A few minutes, no more.”

“Of course Master.” she smiles, seating herself on the back.

As he shut his eyes, he felt his body start to relax as his fairy began to sing a soft melody.

_ “Hear the goddess of happiness,  _

_ cries an endless timeless lullaby...” _


	28. Nocturnal

Lisa had adjusted to a more nocturnal lifestyle even before she had Adrian. It happens when your teacher is a vampire unwilling to change his sleep schedule.

After falling in love with her though, Dracula had done his fair share of adjusting his sleep schedule too. Tossing a baby into the mix meant even less sleep for the couple.

Try as she might, Lisa was only human. Exhaustion couldn’t be staved off with an extra cup of blood unlike her husband, making some nights harder than others.

Such as this night, where she had been playing with her two year old son as her husband had left to attend some vampire business ( _ “Be back in a few minutes _ ” he had promised an hour ago.)

As her son was in the middle of building a castle out of wooden blocks she let out a long yawn, one that left her eyes tearing up and burning as they longed to shut.

Adrian looked up as if startled by the sound, “Mama tired?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“A little.” she confesses, “But I’m okay.”

The toddler stares at her for a moment, before standing and walking over to his bed. She watched in confusion as he grabbed the quilt atop his bed and tugged it off, pulling with all his little might. Once the cover was off, he grabbed his toy wolf and brought the items back to his mother. He placed the wolf in her arms, before trying to push her down gently (as gently as a two year old could).

It took Lisa and her tired mind a moment to realize what was going on, “Oh, you want me to lie down?”

He nodded, “Nap time.”

“Well, if you say so.” she smiles, deciding to play along. She laid down with the wolf in her arms, watching as Adrian threw the blanket on top of her and circled around her to adjust it as needed, before sitting next to his mother’s head, “Close eyes, please.”

“Alright dear.” she chuckled as she did as told. She felt him start to stroke her head, a soothing gesture she had done to him too many times to count. Suddenly, she felt a lot more tired.

* * *

When Dracula stepped into the room, he was baffled by what he saw to say the least. Even more baffled when his son held a finger to his lips and shushed him, “Shhh! Mama nap.”

“I see.” he hums in thought. He walked to the bed and grabbed a pillow, walking back to where Lisa lay and carefully raising her head enough to slip it under her head. Adrian had watched intently the entire time, making sure his father wasn’t doing anything that would wake her.

“How about we go and have a snack downstairs while Mama naps?”

Adrian gasped excitedly and reached up, making grabby hands. The vampire chuckled and lifted him into his arms, commanding the lights to dim with a wave of his hand. As he left, he gently shut the door behind himself and kissed his son’s forehead, “You’re such a good boy, you know that right?”

The smile on the toddler’s face yelled ‘hell yeah I do’.


	29. Candlelight

He looked beautiful in the candlelight.

They had settled into an inn for the night, not anything fancy by any means, but it did have a bed. Sypha had to admit, she could watch him undress a thousand times and still be in awe of what she saw. That is why she found herself staring as he sat on the edge of the bed and shed his clothes.

He wasn’t a Greek statue, all muscle and harsh edges. While his muscles were toned, he did have a bit of a stomach, soft but not exactly squishy. She loved his stomach.

The warm orange glow also highlighted his scars of varying size and shapes. She knew each one carried a story, some more painful than others. She wouldn’t tell him that they were pretty or beautiful because in truth they weren’t. But they were part of him, and she loved every part of him.

He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled a smile just as warm and radiant as the candle’s flame. She blushed and smiled sheepishly, before turning around to undress herself.

* * *

She looked beautiful in the candlelight.

While many men spoke about preferring their women slender and petite, Trevor found his sense of beauty in every curve of her body. He wanted to reach out and touch everything on her, from the stretch marks to her newly acquired scars, map out every inch of her skin and commit it to memory. He loved the way her hair bounced with the slightest movement, loved how her small breasts sat upon her broad figure, how her fingers were rough with callouses that matched his own.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says, because he is a man with very little filter.

Sypha chuckles and lays down next to him, “Do you kiss your girlfriend with that filthy mouth of yours?” she teases.

“Yeah,” he smirks, “And it can do a whole lot more than kiss.”

“Hmm, another night.” she mumbles as she pulls the covers over them, “I’m so tired I could sleep for days.”

“Me too,” he agrees as he pulls her into his arms, “Guess I’ll see you next week, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Yeah...” is the only reply she can muster before she succumbs to the throes of slumber.

Trevor smiles and kisses her forehead, before joining her in dreamland. 

Together they sleep in the glow of the candlelight, content that they are perfect for each other.


	30. Nightmare

Nightmares were once something that were limited to the realm of dreams for the Elder, things that left once you opened your eyes and could always be chased away with logic and ration.

That was until the day they had set up outside of Targoviste. Ilia and Heidi, Sypha’s mothers, had gone into town with Lyla as they set up camp. He had spent the day playing with his four year old granddaughter, lifting her into the air as high as he could and delighting in her excited squeal, playing every game she wanted until she tuckered herself out and laid down for a nap in the back of one of the carts. 

Then Lyla had returned alone, out of breath and with a look of horror on her face as she explained what had happened. Ilia and Heidi had been arrested for witchcraft, and they were coming for the rest of the Speakers too.

It had all happened so quickly, there had barely been time to pack up and flee when news of the arrest came. His first instinct was to go and try to find them, try and help them escape even if it meant to die trying. But his granddaughter needed him, and so with a heavy heart he made the choice to stay for her.

Sypha had awoken during the commotion, starting to panic upon seeing the worried and sad looks of the adults, “Grandpa, where’s Mama and Mami?” she asked as she ran to him, clinging to his robes.

His voice became tight in his throat.

“I want Mama and Mami.” she whimpered as fat tears started to roll down her cheeks, “Where are they, why are we leaving without them? Grandpa, where are they!?”

The next few days were Hell, Sypha crying out for her mothers and refusing to believe they were gone, even with repeated explanations that they weren’t coming back. 

She screamed and cried until she had no voice. She refused to sleep and eat, too sick to her stomach with grief, and the Elder was no better.

What hurt the most during that time was the idea that his daughter and daughter in-law might still be alive, being tortured. He had hoped that if they were to be killed for their crimes, that they had been killed quickly. What hurt more was the likelihood that they weren’t.

It was his worst fears come true, and it intensified as he looked at the child in his arms and knew he could lose her just as easily.

* * *

“Elder, we need to leave.” Arn pleaded, “The priests are harassing us more boldly, we need to go before something happens.”

“You can leave if you want.” he said calmly, “But I will wait for Sypha. We’ll meet up with you.”

“I know it’s painful, but she may not even be alive.” he protested, “She wouldn’t want you to-”

“Please,” he whispers in a pained voice, “I already left her mothers, I’m not going to leave Sypha too.”

Arn frowned and stepped away. The rest of the tribe lowered their heads, exchanging sheepish glances.

“That’s… no.” Arn said after a moment, “We’ll stay with you. I’m sure we can find someone to go into the catacombs for her.”

The Elder looked up and smiled. Arn smiled back and laid a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, before reconvening with the others. Once he was gone, the Elder looked back towards the door and frowned.

If his worst nightmare was coming after him again, he would face it head on this time.


	31. Hunt

_ The Belmont hides under the table, hand clasped over his mouth to silence his heavy breathing. He can hear the beast as it walks through the halls and into the kitchen, sniffing the air as if catching the scent of a treat. _

_ He is weaponless, with only his wits left to rely on. He can only pray the element of surprise will be enough to take down the beast. It walks closer still, pausing in front of the table. His heart skips a beat as he worries he’s been found, but fortunately the beast moves on. He crawls the edge of the tablecloth, steadying his nerves and taking a deep breath as he prepares to attack. His body feels like a coiled spring as he waits for the beast to walk past again, and when he sees its feet come within striking distance, he strikes. _

_ The monster shouted in surprise as he tackled it to the ground, falling onto its back with a mighty thud. It went deathly still, face frozen in twisted surprise. He had done it, he had won- _

“What on Earth is all this yelling about?” Sypha asked as she walked into the kitchen, holding baby Sonia in her arms and looking less than amused, “I thought you were supposed to be getting Gabriel ready for bed.”

“I am,” Trevor said as he opened an eye, sitting up as he scooped the giggling two year old into his arms, “What better way to get ready for bed than by fighting and slaying a ferocious beast?”

“Daddy’s a monster!” the two year old declared, “He said ‘Grrr’ and I beat him!”

“Oh, did you now?” she smiles, “My, you’re so strong!”

The two year old beamed in response to the praise, before rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Uh oh, is someone getting sleepy?” Trevor chuckles as he stands, prompting Gabriel to respond with a whiny  _ “Noooo.”, _ only to yawn immediately after.

“See, tuckering him out is a good idea.” Trevor said proudly.

“Yes yes, you are quite the genius parent.” she concedes teasingly, “Now let’s get these kids to bed, okay?”

Gabriel was already half-asleep in his father’s arms as he was carried up the stairs, and had lost the battle with slumber once he was tucked into bed. Sypha gave Sonia her bedtime feeding before burping her and laying her in the crib, stroking her soft and tiny head before walking over and kissing Gabriel’s cheek. Trevor followed suit right after her, and with goodnight kisses handed out they parent’s retreated to their own room and settled into their bed.

“God, I’m getting too old for this.” Trevor lamented as he rubbed where his back had hit the floor, “Forget what I said earlier, roughhousing before bed is a terrible idea.”

“Duly noted.” she smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Goodnight Trevor, I love you.”

“Love you too.” he yawned.

And so concluded another peaceful night in the Belmont and Belnades household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And my first ever Prompt Challenge is done!!! \\( ﾟヮﾟ)/   
> Thank you sosososo much to everyone who read and left comments and kudos, they really motivated and inspired me throughout this whole thing!! Now if you'll excuse me, college demands I return my attention to it أ ‿ أ


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